Mushy Romance-y Junk
by Steeven Lee
Summary: "Roses are red. Violets are blue. Romance is stupid. Why me?" After the events of "One Sweet Race," Rancis Fluggerbutter finds himself stuck with a big fat crush on Vanellope von Schweetz. What the heck is he supposed to do about it? Well, there's only one way to find out... he thinks. Oneshot. Switches points of view. Some slapstick violence & childish language/humor.


**Sorry for this artery-clogging author's note, but I want to thank ****"hisarcher19" for reviewing the story before I posted it. Your input was helpful. Special thanks also go to the first reviewer here (I would've PM'd but you were a guest) for your critique. It helped a ton, and I'm working on a few of the things you pointed out.**

**I also want to thank my God and Savior Jesus Christ for giving me this writing ability. I was absolutely moved when writing this, and I felt really close when it was happening, closer than I've felt so far when writing a story.**

**For disclaiming purposes: this is a fanfic, not a sermon, okay? Yes, I used Christian concepts to influence the theme and overarching plot (I poured myself into the story, and I'm a follower of Christ, so this is a natural result), and heck, there's even a lesson I intend for writers to learn, but don't worry; you're not about to get preached to (If you want some Christian Q and A, just PM me and I'll be happy to oblige... no flaming, please).**

**Wreck-it-Ralph is (C) Disney, which is unaffiliated with me.**

**Now, I'm sure you just want to cut to the story already, so...**

* * *

_'Here we go.'_

The sun is shining down on the racetrack, the smell of sweet saccharine is filling the air, the cheers of the crowd are erupting like a storm, the engines are roaring with anticipation, and I - Rancis Fluggerbutter - am so gonna win this.

This, of course, is the end of another day at the arcade, and it's time for Sugar Rush's random roster race. I hop in my car and crank it on, revving it up a few times. The RV1 is purrin' like a kitten. I smile at the sound, ignoring some of the side-comments and jeers chucked my way from the other racers. Let 'em laugh. They'll be the ones eating my sugar dust soon. Besides, this sick puppy wasn't built for looks. It was built by me and Van- er... _President_ Vanellope von Schweetz... for one thing and one thing only: speed. I grip the wheel, ready to go.

"Citizens of Sugar Rush..." I hear a familiar lowly drone introducing Vanellop-dangit! _President_ Vanellope von Schweetz (I have to get that right). "...President Vanellope von Schweetz."

"Hello, fellow racers!" I hear the President chime in, "And thanks, Billy Boy, for being so enthusiastic about this!"

"You're welcome..."

I look up and give the President my full attention as she goes into some speech about racing fair and square and... and stuff... and something about pancakes?

...

Okay, so I'm not really paying attention. Her words kinda drone out in the back of my mind. I'm too busy thinking: thinking about how she helped me build this car. Vanellope was the only one who didn't make fun of me for not winning any cups. She's the only one who was really kind to me when it came to this stuff. She's the only one who actually stopped - _actually stopped near the end of a race_ - to help _me_ out when I had crashed my other car! Y'know - the car I sold all my possessions to get...

Which reminds me; after I win this race and get the winner's pot and celebrate like there's no tomorrow, I should probably invest in buying back some of those things... Like a _bed_ for starters. I'm getting tired of crashing at Gloyd's each night.

"...now, without further ado, let the race begin!"

Cheers explode all around and I'm yanked back to the present just in time to realize I've been staring at Vanellope and smiling like a dope during her entire speech. Awkward. I nervously grin and quickly wave at her, hoping she doesn't think I'm weird.

She winks.

Of course she winks. She just had to go and wink at me before hopping in her car and _oh for crying out loud_ now I'm starting to feel a little red burning sensation on my cheeks and _oh this is so embarrassing I just want to go and hide._

Trying to be casual, I bend down and pretend to be checking some of the pedals. Good grief, man. What's wrong with me? I've gotta stop acting like a dopey love-sick idiot.

_'Hey! You are _**not**_ some dopey love-sick idiot!'_

...

Okay, maybe I'm not love-sick, but I'm not too sure about the other two.

Mental checklist: Dopey? Check. That grin I just had splatted on my face had all the intelligence of a baboon about it. Idiot? Check. I'm pretty sure if I were smarter I wouldn't have my head between my legs right now waiting for the red to go away from my face. Love sick? Pshh_. Please_. Now _that's_ pretty idiotic to think. What am I, _four_? Do I seriously think I have a crush on the _President?_

...

_'Well...?'_

...

Oh.

Oh crud. Oh please no. _Oh please no I just had to think that didn't I?_ I feel my whole face turn red, and I duck lower into my car. Oh crud oh crud oh crud. This is... Oh... Now why did I have to go and think _that _of all things?

_'C'mon Rancis! What's with all this mushy romance-y junk? Can it! You need to focus on the race!'_

**Blrrr.**

What's-?

**Blrrr!**

The signal! Oh-

**BLEEEEEEP!**

I yank myself back up and slam on the gas. My car shoots across the line like a missile, and the whole track turns to a blur. My stomach is nauseous, my face is red, and...

_'And she winked at you.'_

Shutupshutupshutuuup... This type of stupid thinking is _not_ going to get me any closer to that cup!

The winner's cup...

I grit my teeth, grip the wheel harder, and keep my eyes - and mind - where they should be: on the road. The RV1 picks up speed and roars past the first few other racers easily.

_'Come on, little engine! I picked you just for this...'_

* * *

I'm almost there.

I can't believe it! I'm actually doing it!

Taffyta's way behind me now! The Fluggerbutter oil worked! Oh, sweet sweet hallelujah! Dear golden trophy, I could just kiss ya...

_'Hey, dork. Vanellope is between you and the finish line.'_

...goodbye.

I could just kiss the trophy goodbye.

Sure enough, that little green hoodie is fluttering in the wind and her chocolate coated bullet is shooting straight for the finish line.

Well, dangit! I'm so _close_ to winning, too! I still might make it, though...

Just..

_gotta..._

**...try!**

Pedal to the metal. My tiny engine's straining to match Va... _President_ Vanellope's speed! Its work is paying off, though. We're side by side. _We're side by side!_ I... I can't go any faster. The engine's pounding its little heart out and _I can't go any faster! _Actually, I'm starting _to lose speed! _Not a lot. Just enough to _lose the race!_

My heart sinks. After all this time... After all we've done... She's going to beat me.

I glance over to see Vanellope (President Vanellope!) smirking at me. My heart sinks even lower, and I think I feel it hit the bottom of my stomach._  
_

"What's so funny?" I shout at her.

"Congrats on the Cup, Rancis!"

"Wha...?"

Before I know what's happening, she hits her breaks, eases behind me, and gives me another wink.

That red burning's coming back to my cheeks.

A mixture of excitement, confusion, and some nausea envelope me when I stagger out of my car and a crowd swarms to greet me. Why? Because... Because I just did it! I... I won the cup!

_'Vanellope let you win.'_

Amidst the screaming candy people, I see the President walking right towards me. She hands me the trophy.

"Congratulations, butterfingers!"

Except I'm frozen, and can't quite reach out to take the golden cup. My forehead's sweaty, I'm red faced, and my heart is doing back flips in my chest. Another stupid grin stumbles its way back onto my mouth.

_'Oh, great. Now you look real cute. Take the trophy before you faint. They all think you've got some sort of brain damage.'_

A slap on the back from someone in the crowd breaks my paralysis, and I take the cup gratefully.

Before I know it, they all pick me up and are cheering my name loud and clear!

"But where are you going to put that?" I hear Vanellope ask, "Isn't your book case gone?"

I just smile. "I can make one! Or maybe even a trophy case... for holding lots of Sugar Rush Cups!" I laugh. This is so _cool!_ And it's all thanks to President Vanellope.

I look at her once again, feeling a little flutter in my gut.

* * *

Hours later, I find myself standing on the racetrack, polishing my cup. A smile's on my face and a glow is in my chest. Most of the other racers and citizens have left the track for their homes, basically leaving me alone to enjoy my victory. I-

_Smack! _"R-dawg! Congrats on the sick win, dude!"

Gloyd. I'd recognize the racer's heavy handed smack on the back any day.

I really don't want to take my eyes off of my trophy, but I'm forced to rip them off the golden delight and turn them to a much more orange sight (Heh. That rhymed). Gloyd Orangeboar is standing there in front of me, chewing some piece of candy. What is that, bubble gum? I don't know. It's hard to tell what choice the coin-hogging candy addict has picked this day. He loves racing, sure, but it comes in second place compared to his main obsession: any sugar laden sweet he can get his paws on.

"...before the race today?"

What? Dang. I missed what he was saying.

"Sorry, Gloyd, I didn't catch that."

"It's okay, man. I was just asking-"

**VRRRRRRM!**

My heart jumps a mile at the sudden noise. President Vanellope's car shoots past us, down the track, and off to the castle.

"Hey! I was talkin' to my bud, miss prez! Sheesh. What a _jerk_." His tone changes from casual to angry in a split second. "You'd think that that _little glitch_ would be actin' better now, being the president and all. Am I right, R.F.?"

But that last part is lost on me. Deep down, something inside of me gets real mad real quick. Jerk? Glitch?

_'Rancis, please don't.'_

How _dare_ he call her that?!

_'Seriously, don't.'_

"_Hey, Gloyd!_ That 'jerk' is the _reason_ I got this cup _in the first place!_ And by the way, she's _not_ a glitch! That's part of her _actual code,_ in case the fifty plus races she's done since being president didn't _tip you off!_ Now if you'd be so kind as to stop insulting _my best friend_, I'd really appreciate it!"

I can't help myself. Y'know, you'd think that Vanellope would get a little _respect_ around here after the whole King Candy incident. But no! Even now, she doesn't get treated right. Sheesh!

I notice the look on Gloyd's face.

_'You know Rancis, you're about as subtle as a car crash.'_

"R-dog?"

Oh no, now he has a big snotty grin, and I know what that means and oh no oh please no.

I take a step back and grab my trophy tightly, as if somehow that would help. My heart starts racing, I'm sweating again, and I think that Gloyd knows. Oh please don't tell me...

"Dude! You've totally got a crush on the President!"

I smack my hand over his mouth.

_"Shhh! Gloyd!"_ I hiss at him, twitching my head this way and that to see if anyone's listening in._ "What do you wanna do, tell the whole arcade?!"_

He shoves my hand away, a little peeved.

"Dude! I swallowed my gum thanks to that."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." He says, looking down. I think that he's forgotten... Oh. Nope. He's grinning and looking at me again. "In love with the _V!_ Oh, this is just _rich_. Are you _for real,_ Fluggermeister?"

I kinda shrink back into myself and twiddle my fingers. Oh crud my face is turning red again.

"...maybe?" I manage to let my words stumble out "I-I don't know, really. Do... _you_ think I have a crush on her?"

_'Oh, yeah, 'cause Gloyd's the expert on these things.'_

"Is Rainbow Road an absolute nightmare? _Of course you have a crush. _Dude, why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I don't know! I just... I just... I just wasn't _sure_ whether it's for real or not, y'know?"

"Oh, trust me, it's for real, man."

"How can you tell?"

"Do you feel little flutters in your Fluggerbutter stomach when yer around her?"

...

"...maybe."

"Do you feel all warm and fuzzy when she compliments you?"

"Well, yeah, sometimes, but I don't see how-"

"Do you daydream about her at awkward moments, like_ just before the random roster race?_"

At that, my brain spirals into panic mode. _Red alert! Red alert!_

"...how'd you know?"

_How many other people saw that?_

"Bro, I got eyes inside my eyes, ya dig? At first, I thought you were just sucking in fumes from the other cars when you were staring at her like a love-sick dope during her little pep talk. But the way you chewed me out just earlier and that tomato red face of yours is the nail in your '_single and open_' coffin; you, my friend, are _so __totally_ in love... _with the President! **Bah**-hahahaha! **Oh** my **gosh!"**_

He falls on the ground laughing, tears streaming out of his eyes. Meanwhile, I'm frozen stiff and burning all over with embarrassment.

"Gloyd, please, man..." I whimper out, hoping nobody hears or sees the scene he's making.

He staggers up, wiping away a tear and still laughing at me. Quickly, he grabs my shoulder and gestures wide with his other arm, swinging it all around the place in a mock announcement.

"Look out ladies, _R-dawg_ is taken! Anyone like Vanilla Peanut-Butter Delight? 'Cause that's _just_ what's coming your way soon! Oh unplug me this is just _too awesome!_"

"Snap out of it, Gloyd!"

I smack him across the face, and his laughter dies down, leaving just a smirk. He has just one more "compliment" to spurt out, I can tell. Too bad for him, he'll have to hold it in, 'cause this is _serious business!_

"Well, what should I do?" I ask.

He lets out a brief chuckle, but then gradually that smile of his fades away. "You're serious, aren't you?"

I nod. Maybe it's the tears in my eyes, maybe it's the shaking hands I have. I don't know what it is, but something conveys to Gloyd just how meaningful this is to me. If I really do have a crush on the President...

_'What do you mean by 'if'?'_

Okay, _since_ I really do have a crush on the President, what am I supposed to do now?

I slump down onto the curb and bury my face in my hands. My head's spinning around and is about to skid and crash. This love stuff is new to me...

"What _should _I do about this?"

Gloyd sits down next to me, gently pats me on the back, and answers, this time with a less trivial and more even-headed tone.

"Hey, bro, it was just surprising is all. I understand that you've got feelings_,_ and I respect that. Shoot man, I've had crushes on other racers in the past. I know just where you're coming from, and, thanks to my experience..." His face brightens up and he gets a smug, proud posture about him "...I can tell you _just_ what it is you need to do in order to hook her and reel her in."

"Reel her in?"

_'Okay, Rancis. Kill yourself. It'll give you a bigger shot at this than if you listen to "G-Dog" over here.'_

"Lissen' to me, bro. You're not the only dude in Sugar Rush (or the arcade for that matter)." He leans in closely, with the air of a conspiracy theorist about him. Quietly, he whispers in my ear. _"Doesn't it occur to you that you might have other competition?"_

"C-c-competition?"

"For real!" Quiet time's over as he jumps back and yells loud and proud again. "What you need is to _get your groove on_, and I _don't _mean dancing either (although knowing how to dance can probably help). I mean you gotta turn on the _charm, _bro! It's time to go full on _romance-master, _ya dig?"

I nervously chuckle, putting on an insincere smile as I stand up. I offer a reply through gritted teeth.

"I dig..."

_'...a grave for my dignity if I plan on listening to this clown.'_

_Smack! _He punches me in the arm. Hard.

"That's what I like to hear, bro. Tell ya what, though: I gotta run. I've got places to see and people to be. But here's what you need to do:

"A) Find out what she likes,  
"B) Think of a bunch of romantic one-liners,  
"C) Ask her out to a classy, romantic date,  
"D) put on the biggest, most suave attitude you can, and - of course -  
"E) Get her to plant a big fat kiss right on you, boy! She'll fall for ya hook, line, and sinker. Got it?"

I finish scratching it out on my napkin from Tapper's, worried a _lot _about that last step. And the first one. And all the ones in between.

"Got it," I reply.

"'Kay, bro. You go find out what she likes, and then meet me back at my pad. I'll help you out, man."

He hops in his car and turns it on, ready to drive off.

"Hey, Gloyd?"

He looks over at me.

"What?"

"Please don't tell anyone."

With a smile and a salute, he drives down the track and into the distance, leaving me alone with my thoughts. After a few minutes, I decide to go for a nice walk to clear my mind and think about everything I know so far.

What _does_ she like?

Well, let's see... there's... Uh...

...

Hmm.

Okay, I've got nothing. I put my hands in my pockets.

I have a bad feeling about all this mushy, romance-y junk.

_'Oh, sure. _**Now** _you feel that way.'_

I sigh and continue walking off into the perpetual daylight of Sugar Rush.

* * *

That daylight is something else, isn't it? The pink (or is it salmon?) colored halls of the castle are glowing and sparkling in the lazy afternoon's sun, illuminating everything in a lovely golden hue.

It makes me feel sick.

"Sour Bill?" I ask as my attendant comes scampering up to me.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Make a note: the colors of Candy Castle are way too girly," I say as I begin pacing. "I request that they be made less so. I mean, come on! It's seriously cramping my style. I'm thinkin' maybe red. Ooh! Or green! Yeah! Green and brown, with candy pieces all over the walls, for decoration. Maybe even a chocolate fountain right smack in the middle of the hall- No, wait. Make it a vanilla fountain! Excellent. Ya got all that, Billy Bob Jones?"

"Mmm Hmm..." The green little gumball says as he finishes scribbling on a napkin from Tapper's.

"Hey. Why don't we ever have paper?"

"We spent the money on a root beer party, your highness..."

I roll my eyes. "Bill?"

He takes a moment to realize what he just said. The melon-colored marble gets all bug eyed.

"Oh! S-S-Sorry, your... uh... _executiveness_."

A small bow.

"Thank you. But I cannot have you going around saying 'your highness' all the time. So," I continue pacing. "Sour Billius, for your punishment, I need you to run down to Steve. Give him some emeralds or somethin' and tell him we need more paper. Made from sugar cane, of course." I lick my lips. That paper always tastes so good. "Ya think you can handle that, Sourface?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sour Bill salutes me, relieved that I didn't give him an _actual_ punishment. It almost makes me chuckle.

"Good. Now get outta here, ya ol' knucklehead."

With a nod and a mumble, Candy Castle's cool-headed caretaker walks off to do his errands, leaving me alone in the hall.

So, naturally, I flop down on the throne and let out a bored sigh. So much done today, and so little to do all of tomorrow. The arcade's closed until Monday, and the random roster race is over already.

I smile.

Rancis. It was real cute to see the look on his face when he saw that I let him win. Y'know what, though? He earned it. The dude sold _everything_ he had to buy some fancy hot rod, only to get it crashed. Then he worked his butt off with me getting the parts for that new car of his. What did he name that car again? RZ? VR? Something?

Oh, yeah! The RV1. Now I remember. R for Rancis and V for Vanellope (President Vanellope, of course of course)...

That's actually pretty sweet. I mean, I know he used to bully me just as much as the others did, but with all that King Candy mess, I don't really blame them. After all, that's in the past. And besides, I kinda like that little peanut butter squirt.

_'Not as much as he likes you, though, don't ya think?'_

Well that came out of nowhere.

I stand up and begin pacing around the hall, chewing on my hoodie strings as I think (thinking is one of those dumb things that presidents have to do now and again). Does Rancis really like me? No, not, y'know, like _that_ or anything, but as a friend...

...yeah.

As a friend.

...

_'Okay, that's baloney, and you know it.'_

Once again, _that_ uncomfortable thought came out of nowhere. I mean, I know he was giving me that dreamy-type look during my speech, with his mouth hanging open so wide I could see his breakfast, but maybe the fumes were just getting to him. Seriously, those cars can give off a lot of gas sometimes.

Sugar gas, that is.

Okay, so maybe the fumes _weren't_ getting to the guy, but I can hardly blame him for the way he's been acting around me. The dude's just not used to people helping him out during races and stuff. I'd be pretty happy, too. And let's not forget that a _girl _had to let him win. _That's_ why he was blushing. I'd be embarrassed too.

...

_'...'_

Fine, so he _might _have a big, fat candy crush on me. Big deal! When you're the president, you're going to have a _lot _of secret admirers. It comes with the territory. Besides, like Ralph said, I'm an adorable winner. Who doesn't like adorable winners? Crazy people, that's who. And Rancis is _not _crazy, so naturally it'd be pretty easy for the Fluggerbutter to get all emotional and stuff when I went out of my way to help him make a car.

_'...and winked at him before the race.'_

Shut it.

_'...and let him win his first cup.'_

Shut it shut it shut iiit.

_'...You know what? You've gone out of your way an awful lot just to help him out. And heck, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you-'_

"Shut up!" I yell really loudly. My voice echoes off the castle walls. I wince, wait for a moment, and listen.

Nobody heard me.

Good.

And nobody can see me, either.

Better.

Why?

'Cause my cheeks are redder than a hot tamale, and burning just as much. Me? Have a stupid crush on _Rancis__? _Wake up and smell the coffee cake! A _crush? _That's sounds like something a _two year old_ would say. And besides, I have a list of reasons why I absolutely positively do _not _feel _that_ way towards _him_ or _anyone ever!_

_'Your cheeks are getting redder and now your heart's sounding like a rumbling engine. Anything to confess?'_

I'm innocent, your honor. I was framed! There is no way in all the arcade that _that_ is happening!

_'Why not?'_

Well... because... uh...

...

_'You said you had a list of reasons.'_

...

...He's a lowly peasant.

_'You're a president, not a queen.'_

I'm not into him.

_'That's not a reason, that's what I'm debating here.'_

He's too smelly!

_'Wow, that's shallow.'_

_I'm not his type!_

_'Let me ask you something: when you saw him write RV1 on the side of that car, your heart skipped a beat, didn't it?'_

_...yeah. I guess so._

_'And what about when he smiled at you after the race? Recall feeling all mushy and warm when he did that?'_

_...Yes. Right again. What, do you want a cookie? It doesn't mean jack diddly squat!_

_'And Ralph's good at fixing things. Admit it and get it over with before you make yourself choke to death on all this mushy, romance-y junk!'_

...

_'Just cut the drama and own up to it. Like pulling out a splinter: get it over with quick and painlessly.'_

...

Fine.

Yes, I have a crush.

_I have a crush, people! _Spread the news!_ Tell the whole stinkin' world!_ I, Vanellope von Schweetz, have a crush on Rancis Fluggerbutter! So what? It's simple, it's not mushy, it's not romantic, and I don't care. I have a crush, _but I don't care!_

I slump myself onto the throne again, arms crossed, a scowl on my face, and my heart pounding like a sugar-high little kid.

Why should I care if I'm in love with someone?

...

The minutes tick by, and the hour ticks by, and this predicament isn't going away or getting any less annoying.

...

At long last, Sour Bill returns with the sugar cane paper in a big chest on wheels.

"Here you go, ma'am."

"Thanks, Sour Bill. Listen: I'm going out for a drive. As Vice President, you're in charge of the castle until I'm back."

"...Vice President?" He asks, confused. Slow on the uptake, as usual.

"Yeah. I'm making you Vice President for now until I get back. Woohoo yay have fun look I have to go."

"Where are you going, ma'am?"

"Out for a drive. I'll be over by the chocolate raceway if anyone needs me... _only _if it's an emergency, though, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." He mumbles, scribbling out notes on some of the paper.

And with that, I'm off to the races! Figuratively speaking of course. Y'know, 'cause I'm not racing and I'm really off to think about Rancis and me.

_'Sittin' in a tree...'_

**Oh, shut up!**

* * *

_'K-I-S-S-I-N-G!'_

**I said shut up!**

The sun's beating down on my back as I walk around the chocolate raceway track with a knot in my stomach and an annoying voice in my head. An annoying voice which seems to want to drive me insane with its childish antics. I need to focus, dangit! Okay, so what am I doing again?

Oh yeah! Getting nowhere fast. Just find out what Vanellope likes, huh, Gloyd? Well, guess what I've got so far?

...Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. What did I expect, though? I'm not a _mind reader_ after all. I can't just _think _and suddenly know what Vanellope likes, or what she finds romantic or anything like that. Heck, I don't even know where to _start_ finding that stuff out!

I kick a chocolate rock in my frustration.

_'Well, what do most girls find romantic?'_

Hmm.

Well, at least it will probably get me somewhere.

Let's see...

_'Dancing?'_

Yeah. Dancing.

Oh. Dancing.

Great. _Ugh._ Of all the things I_ can't stand_, dancing has _got_ to be one of the _worst_. I can never get into the beat of the music, I don't know any moves, and besides, dancing in and of itself isn't romantic. If I want any brownie points with the President, this has to be _slow dancing,_ which I hate even more than regular dancing. There's gotta be something else. What else is romantic?

Flowers? Probably. But I'm no Romeo! Dancing and flowers?

...and poetry, and stupid love letters, and stupid holding hands and walking down some stupid beach. Here, let me try my hand at poetry:

_Roses are red.  
Violets are blue.  
Romance is stupid.  
Why me?_

I kick another chocolate chunk.

_'If you're going to be doomed to skip and sing and hold hands and write mushy love notes every single day for the rest of your life, then perhaps this isn't a match made in Heaven.'_

Try the _other _place, and then - bingo - that's probably where this whole stupid _crush_ came from.

I sigh...

What's with this mushy romance-y junk, anyway? I don't even know if she's into me at all! And even if she is, I'm fairly certain she doesn't like any of this lovey-dovey garbage!

...

...hey.

It just hit me.

Vanellope's car, specifically.

_Smack! Crack! Thud!_

The ground swings up to greet me and my whole face plants itself, kissing the chocolate road and dragging forward painfully. My body soon joins me and it too thuds itself against the earth and sends a riveting pain up my spine briefly before my head starts spinning. I think I hear little chocolate birds circling around my ringing skull, and it takes me a moment to realize I'm not injured, thanks to in game physics.

Uninjured, but hurting like a son of a gun.

"Oh my gosh! Rancis!" I hear Vanellope yell.

Okay, stand up man. You can't look like this around her.

I quickly jump to my feet and dust off. Is my hair all right? Do I have any more chocolate dust on me? What about teeth? Am I missing any teeth? Frantically, I swing my hands this way and that, finding each and every thing wrong with my outfit and re-adjusting it as Vanellope approaches me.

_'Calm down. Be casual. Don't blow this.'_

"Hey, Van- er... _President_ Vanellope! Fancy _running_ _into_ you here... heh."

I put on a big fake grin. My head starts spinning again when I notice that Vanellope's right there she's _right there_ and I don't have anything to say and oh crud you're standing there with another stupid grin on your face and this is getting worse and worse and now you're blushing and-

"Heheh," She lets out a nervous chuckle, too. "So, you okay?"

_Well apart from my head turning into the arcade's finest blender and my heart trying to explode and my cheeks getting to the point where you'd mistake them for red Christmas lights and you're here and I don't know anything about having a crush and love and blah blah blah, yeah I'm fine._

"Yep, doing good! I was just walking around thinking about flowers and skipping and dancing."

My eyes get as wide as bowling balls.

_'-the heck did I say _**that **_for?!'_

Vanellope looks a little taken back.

"O-Oh. Cool. So, um... Congrats again on winning the cup."

"Thanks! I couldn't have done it without your help."

I smile again, and she nervously returns the look. I notice that she's twiddling her fingers and shuffling her feet and not making eye contact.

"No problem. I was... glad to help you."

_'Way to alienate her, Romeo. Next time, how about you just say you're a nut job and get it over with? Skipping and flowers? _**Seriously?**_'_

Shut up, brain. You're... You're stupid.

_'She's getting away! Now's your chance, dingus!'_

"So... Vanellope... I hear... um... What I mean is..."

She's getting really nervous now. Oh Rancis just suck it up and spit it out already! Except I can't. Because my legs are shaking and my stomach wants me to revisit my lunch. Good grief, why me of all people?

She's frozen and staring at me like I'm some kinda buffoon.

Here goes nothing.

"President Vanellope von Schweetz," I begin, gritting my teeth and wincing with every other syllable. I spit the last part out really fast._ "Wouldyouliketogooutonadatewithme?"_

I close my eyes and shove my hands even further down into my pockets. Brace for impact...

...

"Okay, I didn't understand a word you just said. Could ya maybe slow down there, motormouth?"

...Great. I can't do this. I just can't do this. I give up. I'll just have to give up. I'll make up some excuse for why I'm acting weird, I'll forget all about this crush, and I'll just leave it buried in the dirt. Gloyd might be making fun of me, but who cares? I may never live this down, but who cares? Who cares if I back down and she winds up with some other guy? Who cares if I'm too cowardly to let her know how I feel? _Who cares if this is the most important moment of the year for me?_

_I care!_

"Vanellope, I-"

"Ahem!" She interrupts me, her demeanor suddenly becoming very royal. "Hold that thought, Fluggface. I have a special presidential announcement to make. Since there will be nothing to do the rest of the evening, I have decided to host a presidential ball in honor of, uh... well, I haven't thought of what yet, but the point is that I can't just show up at a stinkin' _ball_ without someone escorting me. So, Rancis Fluggerbutter, I hereby appoint you my official Dancing Adviser Towards the Executive branch."

...

"What to the who?"

"Dancing Adviser Towards the Executive branch, or... uh..." She leans in close and whispers, and for the first time I catch a tinge of red on her cheeks. "D.A.T.E. for short."

My mouth drops open in shock. Oh my gosh. Before I can say anything, though, she's back in her car and starting it up.

"I'll expect you dressed up all fancy and ready by nine! Don't disappoint me, Dancing Adviser! The citizens of Sugar Rush are depending on you!"

And with a honk and a smile, she's off down the road to Candy Castle.

Leaving me alone to absorb what I just heard come out of her mouth.

It takes me all of two seconds to dart down the chocolate track and on the path to Gloyd's.

_'You have one shot at this, Rancis! Don't mess it up!'_

* * *

_'Taffyta, you really messed up this time,' _I think to myself as I walk up to Candy Castle's big, ominous doors. What did I do to deserve getting summoned to Candy Castle? I seriously doubt that word would spread about me finding out about Rancis's little crush on our resident President (Ew. That rhymed).

Rancis.

I _hate _that little trophy-stealing twerp. Almost as much as I hate our President's attitude. So, when I found out about Rancis and Vanellope, I think I choked on my lollipop. Not only is that _gross__, _but it's _wrong._ Vanellope's so... undignified! She's always going off about boyish things and stupid jokes and... ugh. _It's just so annoying! _She's giving Sugar Rush a bad rep, that's what she's doing. And now there's actually _someone _who has a _crush _on her?

_It makes me shudder to think about._

I knock on the big castle doors, still scared of why I might be here, but hiding that fear beneath annoyance. _I'm the real winner here._ I can't let anyone see me acting like a little crybaby or weakling. _Taffyta_ does _not _take any snotty brat's mouthy trash talk, and if that's what I'm in for, the least I can do is be prepared to return the favor...

Within reason, of course. She's still the President, and she can still put me in my place if I_ get out of hand..._

Soon Sour Bill opens the doors to the castle, and I put on my innocent little girl look.

"Excuse me, but I received this summons," I hold up a napkin from Tapper's (Yeah! A _napkin _from _Tapper's_) with Vanellope's scratchy writing on it:

_"Taffyta:  
__Come to the castle ASAP. We need to talk.  
__-President Vanellope von Schweetz"_

"Okay," Sour Bill says, (not even noticing how _wrong_ it is for a President to write a note on a filthy bar rag) "I'll go see..."_  
_

_Thud!_

The castle doors slam in my face. _Rude._

While that little green sourball is off telling our presidential brat, I gather my thoughts and run through the plan one more time. Let's see: Gloyd swung by my place after the race (Ew! That rhymed _again_). Then he told me all about Rancis's little emotional breakdown, and asked me what we should do about it. Honestly, I think Rancis is lucky that Gloyd told me. The main idea, after I had talked some sense into Gloyd and got him to stop laughing about it, is simple:

If we can't get this problem stopped before it starts, then the least we could do is _fix _the two lovebirds so they don't go around embarrassing all of Sugar Rush with their _stupid _displays of affection, displays like _food fights _and _races just for fun _and _car bashes _and all sorts of stuff that's just G-R-O-S-S and _so _unromantic and _wrong!_

_'You just like to gossip.'_

Maybe.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

As far as I know, the President may not even _feel _this way about Rancis, and I _seriously_ hope she doesn't. Then Sugar Rush might not be the laughing stock of the whole arcade.

_'You're just mad that she let Rancis win.'_

Heck, maybe even _that_ _crush_ is why I got this... "summons." She might know that I know about Rancis, and wants to nip this weed before it grows. I don't like our leader's tomboyish attitude about things, but I'll admit that the thought of working with her to crush Rancis's crush makes me feel good. Maybe she's finally growing some _common sense_.

_'Or maybe you're still bitter about losing the race and really want to get even with Rancis (and _**her**_ for letting him win).'_

Okay, maybe _that__, _too.

The castle doors swing open, and Sour Bill leads me inside.

"Woah..."

I forget about the Rancis problem for a second when I see the inside of the castle. I can't believe my eyes. All over the hall, construction workers are hanging fancy, decorative taff-estries. Several tuxedo-colored candy penguins are busy rolling in big peppermint tabletops. In the back, a full blown Sugar Symphony is tuning their crumpet trumpets, velvet cake violins, pixie piccolos, and all sorts of other instruments. The whole place looks _high class!_

"Hey, taffy breath, don't droll all over the carpet, okay?"

I shut my mouth and spin around. It's that brat, alright.

"Uh... Miss President, I... What's with all this stuff?"

"Talk and walk, Taffyta. I'll explain on the way."

With a pat on the back and a spin around, she walks with me to the back door of the court, down the long hall into her bedroom. As we walk, she continues talking.

"Tonight I'm hosting a presidential ball."

_What?_

"That doesn't sound like you," I nervously chuckle. _What's she up to now?_

"Eh, I decided that if I'm s'posed to be president, I better start acting more dignified and stuff. So, tonight I'm throwing a ball, in honor of... something. I'll think of that later. So, yeah I've sent out announcements to everyone in Sugar Rush, except you because I figured what the heck? You're already on your way here anyways. In other words: everyone in Sugar Rush (and a few from other games) is invited to be here at 9:00 tonight! Only there's one problem: _I don't know jack diddly squat_ _about all that fancy stuff._ I figured you do, with the way you're always checking yourself in your mirror and acting all girly and stuff."

"_Hey! _I'll have you know that looks are just as important as actions, if not _more _important!"

"I know you know that, so that's why I wanted your help with... well, _me._"

What?

Somewhere deep down, I start feeling... excited. A golden opportunity has just been handed to me on a silver platter! _I'm _going to be _helping Vanellope _act _like she should?! Pinch me, I must be dreaming!_

"So..." I begin, with a genuine smile (_Okay, more of a sneer, but still._) on my face "What exactly do you want me to help you with you?"

Suddenly, her posture changes as we reach her room. The candy-haired brat glances this way and that, opens the door, shoves me in, and slams it shut behind her, leaving us alone in her candy-coated, brown fudge, vanilla pudding bedroom.

"Hey, that was rude!"

She's not listening, though. Instead, the President is standing, looking at herself in a sugar glass mirror, with red on her cheeks.

Oh no.

"Taffyta, this whole 'Presidential Ball' thing is just an excuse for... uh... well, it's just... um..."

As she fumbles her words, a sinking feeling hits me. _If she says what I think she's going to say..._

"Taffyta, I'm head over heels for Rancis, and need advice! This whole ball is just an excuse for me to go on a date with him."

Oh. Gag. Me.

Calm down, Taffyta. Don't get annoyed. You can work with this. You can still pull a win out of this situation. Just calm down and stop panicking and oh _we're going to be the laughing stock of the whole arcade...__  
_

No!

This is, like I said, a _golden _opportunity! Now I have her right where I want her: _under my control. _I'm going to make her so high class, so fancy, so romantic, that the _only__ way _Rancis could fall for her is if he gets his act together, too!_  
_

_'Nice excuse. You know you just want to embarrass them both.'_

"Will you help me? _Please? _I... this is my only shot," she says, with big, glistening eyes and trembling hands. You know what? For a second I feel some sort of sympathy for her...

...

_'She let Rancis beat you.'_

...and now it's gone.

Yeah, I just want to embarrass them both.

But they don't know that.

With a smirk and a mock bow to my "ruler," I reply.

"Ma'am, you have my word on it. Let's get started."

* * *

_"Gloyd, U wer rght. D glitch is n luv w/Rncis n is his date 4 d ball.  
Lets get startd. U tk care of R, I'll get V. OK?  
-Taffyta"_

I smirk at the text. Awesome. Quickly, I reply to Taffyta and hit "send" and flop down onto my soda bed.

_Bedeep!_

I get a new message from Taffyta.

_"BTW, did u no about d presidential ball?  
-Taffyta"_

Uh... if I say yes, then she'll be mad.

So, no. I didn't.

_"Not till I got word after I left to go bak 2 my pad.  
-G Dog"_

_Send._

_Bedeep!_

_"Good. I wuz gonna kill u.  
-Taffyta"_

I nervously chuckle. She's always joking around... heheh...

_"Hey, do u wanna b my date 4 it? We can keep an eye on R and V dat way.  
-G Dog"_

_Send._

_Bedeep!_

_"K K sure whatevs. g2g now. ttyl. REMEMBER THE PLAN.  
-Taffyta"_

Oh, I do remember the plan.

G Dog is ready to rock. After the race had ended, Taffyta wanted me to find out what was up with Rancis winning. She thought he was playing dirty or something, so I checked out after the race. When I found out about R-man and his crush on the prez, it was _just _what Taffyta wanted to hear.

Figuratively.

I mean, she was still peeved at Rancis for winning, and even more peeved that Vanellope let him win, but this whole "crush" thing was perfect blackmail material, and that means a score for me, and any score for me is a score that scores another touchdown in trying to win Taffyta...

...Speaking of which...

Making sure I'm alone, I step up to my CD shelf and pull the "Sugar Rush" soundtrack out. The shelf slides open, revealing a shrine to my sugary queen. Paintings of Taffyta, statues of her, photos, drawings, the whole nine yards. Heck, even a lollipop she spat out one time is resting on a shelf in there. And over here's the tooth I lost from when she drove me off the road during a race. And there's the picture of me crying when she started laughing at me for getting 3rd for the fourth time in a row.

I let out a big sigh.

My heart gets all warm and fuzzy whenever I'm around that girl.

And this "presidential ball" might be the icing on the cake for our relationship! _Hook. Line. Sinker. Bam!_

_'Gloyd, you've really got to mess things up for Rancis in order for this to work... are you sure about this? You'll really hurt his feelings.'_

Nah, man. R-dog won't know about _my_ wrench in his clock, he'll just think it's _a_ wrench. Which is fine, 'cause all wrenches are wrenches. And besides, he's a go-getter. I know him, and he will _not _give up on V after _one_ embarrassing evening.

_'This could ruin his social life.'_

Naw, man! It will... uh...

_'...make him stronger?__'_

Yeah! See: Rancis gets more gumption, I score a point with Taffyta, and everyone wins. New high score!

_'You know that's a lie.'_

...Maybe.

_Knock knock knock!_

"Gloyd... it's me... Rancis!"

Oh crud. That's him: Rancis!

Quickly I leap out of my closet and shove the CD shelf back in place, returning the secret one to its proper place (Hey! That rhymed... Oh. No it didn't).

"Come in, broseph!"

In steps Rancis, gasping for breath and spitting out words between giant bursts of air.

"Vanellope... wants... me... to... be... her... date... for... the _ball... _at nine... tonight."

Shocker, but I can't let him know that I already knew that. Otherwise he'd know I knew he was being played for a fool. Or maybe. Or not. I'm not sure. Slapping on my cool groove, I walk up to my friend and give him a fist bump.

"_Rancis! _My man! Score!"

He nervously grins, still out of breath.

"So now... what... Gloyd?"

...

_'This is bad.'_

...

Taffyta is worth it.

"Now? I help you _turn on the Fluggerbutter charm!_"

* * *

"...Are you sure about that?" I ask Taffyta as I finish putting on my stupid white "princess" outfit. Between this dress, the fifty plus gallons of makeup, and all sorts of fruity snack perfumes, "I don't feel very comfortable. I-"

"Hush hush hush!" She says, putting a white gloved finger right up against my mouth (she had helped herself to some of the castle's wardrobe selections, and is now wearing some pink and blue dress that I didn't even know we had). "Of _course _you don't feel comfortable! Listen, Madame President. Do you really want this date to go well?"

"Well, yeah, _doy_. I just don't think I need-"

"Then what you _need,_" she says, cutting me off again "Is to look, feel, and act like someone who knows _all about_ this romance stuff, okay?"

"Well, I guess so..."

"You _know so! _And who knows more about this stuff than you?"

I sigh and look down, defeated in the argument.

"You do, Taffyta."

"Exactly!" Her arm flings itself around my shoulder, squeezing me tightly in what is practically a death grip. "Now, we've only got, like, a half hour before this thing starts, so I need you to listen closely and follow my advice."

I sit down on the end of my bed and look her right in the eye, ready to learn about how to be romantic. She begins pacing the room like a teacher. Except I have a very suspicious feeling that she's just making this stuff up as she goes.

"Now, when you first meet him, the correct form of greeting for a classy date like this is - of course - to do a twirl and pretend to faint, then have him catch you."

_'Are you kidding me?'_

"That sounds a bit over-"

"Shush! I talk. You listen." She makes a "zip it" gesture with her fingers, and I stop talking.

For now.

"Next, when it's time for the dinner, you absolutely have to constantly _compliment_ him about how he looks no matter what."

"No matter _what?_"

"No matter what. Does he eat is food well? Point it out. Did he sneeze? Tell him how dreamy it is. Every opportunity you get, you have _got _to say something romantic to him. No pausing, no breaks."

Wow. This romance stuff is _way _over my head. I'd just as soon have a nice lunch with the guy.

_'If I'm going to be stuck doing all this all the time, maybe I shouldn't be doing it in the first place...'_

"Also, there is no such thing as personal space, Vanellope. His bubble is your bubble, and be sure to make that loud and clear."

"You mean be _clingy?_" I sarcastically remark.

"As clingy as you can be," she says, dead serious. I gulp in fear.

"Now, lastly, you have to dance with him during the final slow song of the evening."

Oh _great. _I don't know anything about dancing! That is _not _in my code! "Taffyta! I stink at that stuff!" I protest.

But her voice overpowers mine. "Vanellope, that's why _I'm _having to walk you through it. Now, when you're dancing... hey, are you paying attention?"

"Yeah, just had an itch on my palm." No, I'm not paying attention because I think I'm gonna die from embarrassment before this evening's over.

"When you're dancing, you need to do as many spins as possible. Also: girls lead, guys follow. That's the way waltzes go."

My confidence is getting smaller and smaller. Maybe I could have an executive order that presidents aren't allowed to dance? Wait, what's with Taffyta?

She's suddenly got a dramatic posture about her, both hands are behind her back, and she's looking out the window into the land, the golden gleam of the sun painting an oddly grim picture.

"Taffyta?"

No response. She continues to gaze off into the distance, a growing feeling of dread emanating from her.

"Hey, Batman, are you done with the infinite stare? Or are we-"

"There is..." she says, without taking her eyes away from the outside, "One more thing..." She turns and looks at me, making me actually shrink back a little in fear. Her eyes are piercing right through me. A shadow looms over her face, and a cotton candy cloud briefly obscures the sun, darkening the room.

Then she utters two fateful words.

_"...the kiss."_

I think I feel my heart pounding and my whole body getting ready to turn into a puddle and oh this is _not cool__ and I'm gonna cryyy..._

My fear must be showing, 'cause Taffyta repeats herself before pacing the room again, her steps ringing out like the footsteps of _death._

"Oh yes, Vanellope:_ the kiss._ The seal of the deal. Vanellope, it is all for _nothing_ if you don't give him a_ big fat kiss._"

Her head snaps to my direction.

"And not just any kiss."

_'Oh please no...'_

"You have to kiss him..."

The whole world crumbles into an eternal blackness, and my soul shrinks with it, trembling in awful fear. With an intense gaze that could burn my very being, she leans in and whispers in my ear:

_"...on the lips."_

**"_EEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW!_"** I scream, flinging myself backwards and burying my face in the bed-sheets.

* * *

"Dude, what's gross about it?" Gloyd asks with a blank, unregistered look on his face. We're sitting in his pad, sodas in hand and tuxedos on (Gloyd insisted that he buy them for us. Apparently he's "got connections" that allow him to "expend" a lot of gold coins. I personally think he found a place to get them for free, but I'll keep that to myself).

"What's gross?" I retort "_What's gross? _You want me to say _those things! __That's _what's gross!"

"Trust me, broskey, those are the _best _one liners in romance history. You should be lucky to know a guy like me who knows lines like them," he replies smugly, slouching back and taking another sip of his soda.

Oh that's it!

"So 'If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put _U _and _I _together?!' isn't weird? _Seriously?!" _I straighten up in my chair, trying to drive my point home.

"Hey! _That _is a _classic!"_

"And what about 'If you were a taser, you'd be set on stunning?' Doesn't sound idiotic to _you?_" My muscles all tighten up.

"Uh, no! It actually is _super effective!"_

"Which reminds me: 'Are you a Pikachu? Because you are shockingly beautiful' now that has _moron_ written all over it!"

At this, Gloyd spits out his soda. "Woah, dude! I'll have you know that _I _use that one _a lot!"_

_'And how's that turning out, Gloyd?'_

"And the cream on the cake," I finish, standing up this time "'My love for you is like _vomit_; I _can't hold it in.' I'll let that one **speak for itself!"**_

...

"Yeah, you can save that for later on in the evening."

_Ugh!_ I slouch back in my chair and smack my forehead with my palm.

_'Hey, Gloyd, do you have a spare paddle? 'Cause I'm up the 'dating' creek without one!'_

"R man, I'm your only shot at winning Vanellope, okay? So-"

But a trumpet sounds at his door, sparing me from more "romantic" advice. Confused, Gloyd walks up and opens it. There, standing in the entryway, is Sour Bill, a big blue bowtie on his chest, a gummy bear trumpeter next to him and a... _napkin from Tapper's?... _In his hand.

"Rancis Fluggerbutter and Gloyd Orangeboar," he begins drowsily reading "President Vanellope von Schweetz cordially invites you to Sugar Rush's honorary Presidential Ball, celebrating..." he takes a deep breath, "All the wonderful sugar cane paper we recently bought."

"So why are you reading from a _Tapper's __napkin_?" Gloyd asks.

Sour Bill just scowls at him before turning briskly around and stepping into a chocolate bar limousine, mumbling something about "...sold it all for decorations...". Taking the hint, we get in after him. With a rev and a trumpet note, the limo drives off, cruising its way to Candy Castle.

* * *

The citizens of Sugar Rush are pouring into Candy Castle, all dressed in their fanciest attire. There's a cocoa bunny in a chocolate top hat. I see taffy pieces with sugar coated frosting dresses. Next to a group of monocle-wearing popcorn, several cookie girls are skipping in with their sprinkled hair and buttered bows.

Just stepping onto the caramel carpet is Crumbelina DicCaramello, who appears to be texting Torvald Batterbutter. Batterbutter is walking right next to her. Cheers and screaming distract my gaze. I move my eyes to the right, only to roll them shortly after. Swizzle Malarkey, whose tuxedo can barely be seen beneath all the various jewels and gold he's wearing, has just stepped out of a chocolate limo. His arms are flung over the shoulders of multiple dates: Candlehead, Citrusella Flugpucker, and Jubileena Bing-Bing on his right, Minty Zaki, Snowanna Rainbeau, and Adorabeezle Winterpop on his left, all blushing and giggling and looking so confident and happy.

And here I am, standing in my room, looking out the window, and scared half to death. My heart's trying to pop out my mouth, my hands are trembling like shaken soda bottles, and I have a serious case of _I-don't-want-to-do-this._

_'Calm down, Vanellope, you can do this.'_

Except I don't want to. All this stupid, good-for-nothing, rotten, sick, mushy, romance-y junk is going to be the death of me. _Why does it all have to be so dramatic? Why can't I just hang out with Rancis?! **Why a stinking ball? Why? Why?! WHY?!**_

_'Again: calm down.'_

Sigh. Right.

I just gotta do _exactly_ as Taffyta said, and everything will go just fine. Nervously, I pace the room, not too confident in all this advice from Dr. Taffyface. Isn't it a bit... overblown? I mean, I feel like some kind of snotty drama diva or something. _This isn't me. _If I could have my way, I'd be on a date with Rancis alone, racing or throwing a root beer party or wrecking some cars from the junkyard.

_'But that's not romantic.'_

No, it isn't. And Taffyta knows more about this stuff than I do, so if she knows that guys like to go on fancy dates like this, then who am I to say different? Oh, yeah. _The President, that's who! _And here I am sounding like a stupid soap opera star.

I look in the mirror.

That is definitely not Vanellope von Schweetz, President of Sugar Rush.

A knock on the door. From the other side, I hear one of the castle workers say, "Ma'am, Rancis's limo has arrived."

* * *

"Here we are, R dawg!"

The limo rolls up to the end of the caramel carpet, and an intimidating sight greets me. Eyes. Eyes are everywhere. All these people, all these candy citizens who were screaming and cheering me on earlier, are all going to be looking at me soon. _Judging me_. _Seeing how I do._ My heart is pounding adrenaline all throughout, and oh how I wish this was just a game. In games, you get extra lives. Not the case here, though. _One shot. I can't mess this up._

_'What am I doing here?'_

None of this romance stuff is _anything_ I like. I like racing. I like food fights! I like climbing and running and breaking old rusty things! I _hate _suave, high-class dates that require me to be the king of romance. And why would Vanellope go for this type of stuff, either? This isn't like her. She likes driving her car through loops and bombs. She likes rocking out and having fun! She likes wrecking things and watching explosions and all that stuff that makes Vanellope, well, _Vanellope!_

_'Should've thought of that sooner. You're here now, and there's no going back.'_

Yes there is. I can just stay in the limo. Pretend I'm sick. Say I can't go. I'll high-tail it back to Gloyd's and crash for the evening, polishing my trophy, and not having to _deal _with any of this stuff! But...

But...

_'But Vanellope's the one who invited you here.'_

...

"Dude. Unfreeze, R-Dog. You getting out or are we gonna have to get a gurney for ya?"

I take a deep breath, gulp, and step out of the limo. And into my worst nightmare.

_Thwack!_

Another hard-handed smack on the back from Gloyd. "Hey, Fluggerman! I almost forgot the finishing touch." Before I can ask him what this "finishing touch" is, I'm coughing and gagging on what has got to be the strongest scent I've ever smelled. Oh it's in my _eyes _and _everything!_

_"Gloyd!" _I hack out between coughs "_What the heck is that?!"_

"O_deur de Beurre D'Arachide, monsieur. _It's the best spray cologne in the arcade. Created especially by myself."

"Layin' it on a bit heavy, _don't you think?!"_

"No way, José, now open up wide." Before I can even take another breath, a big dose of similarly-scented mouth spray is suddenly invading my mouth and nostrils, making my eyes water even more than they already are. Gloyd, I could just _kill _you right now.

"Perfect. Now, remember what we talked about, Rancis. One liners. Fancy dance moves. Big kiss at the end."

"Yeah yeah yeah. I get it," I snap at him. I'm more than a little annoyed; I'm down right _ticked off! _This whole "crush" thing has been one big mess, thanks to Gloyd's "help," and now I'm about to royally _embarrass _myself in front of the whole arcade. I'm about to let "G Dog" know about it, too, but I'm interrupted by his sweaty hand slapping over my mouth.

"Oh well what do you know there's my date see ya later good luck Rancis bye!"

And with that, he takes off down the carpet with red cheeks and a sweaty forehead. The not-so-confident "friend" of mine stops in front of a rather irritated Taffyta. With a dramatic bow and an equally dramatic presentation of a flower, he kisses her on the hand. She promptly jerks it away, says something to him, and the two disappear into the castle's big, open doors.

"It's showtime," I say to myself. I straighten my jacket and prepare to go in, but a loud trumpet blast from inside the castle suddenly startles me, followed by Sour Bill's drab voice rolling lazily out from the hall.

"Citizens of Sugar Rush, make way for your host, Vanellope von Schweetz, and her date, Rancis Fluggerbutter."

Oh_ nooo..._

_Everyone's looking at me._

_The crowd has parted to the left and right and there's all these eyes and everyone's looking at me._

I nervously smile, frozen in fear.

Then Vanellope walks down the carpet and she's in a fancy dress and wow she looks really cute and now I'm even more nervous and it must be showing because she's getting redder and redder on her cheeks and she just glitched a little...

"H-H-Hi, Rancis. You look handsome."

She's standing in front of me with her big green eyes. That must be the only part of her not coated in makeup. The only part that's really truly her.

...

...I... uh...

_'Rancis, say something you dope.'_

So I sputter out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Are you a _tazer_? Cause if you are, then you must be set on _stunning_."

...

I swear I can hear crickets chirping.

...

Oh please no-

Suddenly, she spins right around and twirls and faints right in front of me.

_'What a ladies' man you are, Rancis.'_

* * *

"Rancis, you're such a ladies' man..." I say in the dreamiest way possible, hoping that it's convincing enough to fool him.

It's dinner time at the ball, and boy is the date going well so far.

And by going well, I mean going awfully. When he didn't catch me at the caramel carpet, I hit my head on the ground. Now it's all achy and stuff. Not to mention that Rancis is acting pretty creepy and saying all these annoying one liners.

"Y'know, Vanellope, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together."

Like _that. _This dating pressure must be fluggering his Fluggerbutter brain. I mean, just look at that painful smile he's got on! It looks like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. What are we even supposed to be _doing _here?

_'You're supposed to be complementing him, like Taffyta said.'_

Right. Compliments.

"Oh Rancis," I say "The way you smile is just lovely."

"Uh... um... thanks! You um... I mean- I mean thanks for inviting me here. It's really... er... fancy!" Another big, toothy, painful grin. But I decide to continue the conversation anyway.

"Oh thanks," I say, then gesture for him to lean in as I whisper in his ear, "but between you and me, I really am not a fan of ballrooms and stuff."

"Oh..." he says. Suddenly his face _really _brightens up, and I mean, like _really_. Not some fake little cheesy smile. Any brighter and I'd need sunglasses. "Really? Well, that's a _relief_ to hear. To tell you the truth, this isn't really _my style _either. I'd much rather..." His voice trails off and he suddenly gets all nervous and twitchy again. "...Er, excuse me, I gotta use the restroom. I'm gonna throw up- _No wait I didn't mean that! _What I meant was that my love for you is like vomit, andoh_dangit!" _He slaps himself in the forehead before stumbling to stand up. "I'll be back..." Quickly, he rushes off.

While he does that, I look around the room in an attempt to get my mind off of the horrible evening. Everywhere, waiters are bustling about giving refills on root beer, chocolate turkey, and shortcake bread. I suppose the one good thing so far about dinner is the fact that the main course is desert, and the desert is desert, so that's a win-win. It's not enough of one to make me forget how embarrassing this get together's turning out. People are laughing and having a good time, sure, but every once in a while, I notice a strange look in my direction or hear a side comment about "...Rancis and the President? Are you kidding?"

_'Now I look like a total dork. Gee, thanks for the advice, Taffyta.'_

I risk a glance over at her table. Unfortunately, me and Mr. jitter bug got stuck with a big, hand-carved, fancy table right up against the end of the hall where the throne would usually be, where _everyone _can see us. Taffyta's lucky. She's got a table off in a shadowy corner of the room, out of sight of most of the party goers. She doesn't look too happy, though. In fact, she's got some sort of nasty look on her face, as if Gloyd said something-

_Ouch!_ That was a big slap she gave him. I know that I don't want my date going like _that_.

Oh, wait, she's looking at me. What's she want me to do, now?

Quickly, I see her jot down something on a _Tapper's _napkin and hand it to a waiter, mouthing directions to him.

Soon, the candy penguin trots over to my table and sets the note down before walking off.

_"His bubble is yours! CLINGY IS KEY. Don't mess this up, Vanellope.  
__-T."_

_'(Heh. That rhymed.)'_

...

Be clingy, huh? _Well dangit, _that's just so _weird, though._

_'Be prepared, 'cause here comes Rancis.'_

Sure enough, the fluggerbrained Fluggerbutter is nervously walking right back to our table, twiddling his fingers and trying desperately not to show the redness on his cheeks.

"S-S-Sorry about that, I'm n-not sure why I-"

But before he can say anything else, I interrupt him with a big hug and lean on his shoulder as... _ew_... _romantically _as possible. Yeah, my cheeks are turning red again and my whole chest is about to explode into a big bunch of pixels and _everyone is watching me and now I'm starting to glitch a little._

"Oh, Rancis," I force out of my mouth "I just... love... the way your hair... smells." This time it's me doing the stupid toothy _I-really-hate-this-situation_ grin.

"Uh uh uh... uh... thanks? You um... uh... heheheh."

In the background, I hear a chuckle from someone.

_'This is a nightmare...'_

* * *

...I close my eyes, and think to myself. _'An absolute nightmare. I'll wake up and it'll all be over and it'll just be a horrible nightmare.'_

I open one eye.

Then the other.

But I'm not waking up, am I? Because when I open my eyes, the ballroom is still filled with dancing candy people and racers, Swizzle's still got a crowd of girls fawning over his every move, and the stupid waltz music that I can't keep time with to save my life is tipping and tapping its way in the background. This isn't a nightmare, is it? _I'd love it if this was a nightmare. I **wish** this was a nightmare! _But it's not. It's real. I'm dancing with Vanellope, which, you know, should be pretty _awesome_ and stuff and a big score for me, but _she literally won't let go of me!_

Ever since I came back from getting some fresh air, she's been clinging to me like... some... _sticky thing. _For a solid half hour, her arms were locked around me in a death grip and I was forced to hug her tightly. Now we're danicng and - thankfully - her hands are holding mine instead of trying to constrict all the air out of my lungs. Dangit, this is just so weird! I thought _guys _were supposed to lead waltzes! But nope, every single step so far has been her yanking me this way and that, almost causing an accident with each jolt.

_'She's not having a great time, either.'_

That's... probably true.

As we stumble and fumble our way around the ballroom, I can't help but notice that everyone's gradually backing away from us, leaving the whole floor open to only me and Vanellope (and believe me, we're going to need a _whole football field_ if we're going to have room to continue this idiotic fumbling that can barely pass as a "dance").

My legs go where my body doesn't want, and my arms are jerked in another direction as Vanellope goes in for a spin. Unfortunately, I'm not prepared for it, and neither is she. Reacting to avoid collision, she "glitches" for a split second and shoots right through me, heading straight for a big bowl of punch.

_'Catchhercatchher**catchher!'**_

Just in time, I manage to stop her from falling over and pull her back up to me. For a second, our eyes lock. I don't know if I'm glad they did or not.

_'Help me,' _hers say _'This is horrible, please get me out of here.'_

I... I really wish I could. The most I do is offer a shrug and a chuckle, hoping she understands that I'm in the same boat.

...

Then I notice something else. Well, a few things, actually:

First of all, my cheeks are blushing and burning hot and she notices it.

_'You shouldn't-'_

Also: The song's over.

_'Don't do it, Rancis.'_

Everyone's staring.

_'You should stop.'_

Vanellope's biting her lower lip nervously.

_'Call it quits while you can walk out alive!'_

My chest is about to explode.

_'Don't do what you're thinking!'_

Big kiss at the end. Just like Gloyd said.

_'You really really really should_ **not **_do this just forget Gloyd and his stupid directions and please you're going to mess everything up and-'_

My body acts without my mind's permission, and I lean in and plant a big, **fat** kiss right on Vanellope's lips _right on her lips_ and amidst the gasps from the crowd and the murmuring and the giant wide eyes of Vanellope _which really are nowhere near as wide as mine and I wanna just disappear into nothing I notice that Gloyd and Taffyta are laughing at me actually laughing and **this **was all a **setup just to EMBARRASS us AND I WANT TO JUST GO AWAY-**_

_'Rancis Rancis Rancis she's **GLITCHING!'**_

A painful static burst rivets my whole body and suddenly I'm snapped out of reality for a second. My mind is in fifty places at once as half of me goes here and the other half goes there with billions of pixels blue and in between. The next thing I know, I'm sent flying into a big table, and Vanellope's falling into the punch bowl.

But it doesn't stop there.

_Of course_ it doesn't stop there. Because that wouldn't be humiliating enough, would it?

She knocks over the rest of the tables, causing a domino effect that eventually reaches a great big vanilla fountain in the middle of the room. Of course, this is broken and sprays vanilla all over Vanellope and me, coating us and ruining our outfits. I try to stand up but instead I slip and find myself grabbing onto the only thing I can: a cake, which decides it wants to fly, only cakes can't fly, so it smashes right down on my face and sends bits of frosting and chocolate everywhere.

...

You could hear a pin drop after that.

_'Or Vanellope crying.'_

Or that, too.

_'Or you crying.'_

Which is happening as well, because I just messed everything up for _both of us._

Panicking and just wanting to leave, I stand up, mumble some sort of apology to Vanellope, and run straight for the exit, tears in my eyes and a heavy thumping in my chest. Who needs all this mushy romance-y _junk?! WHO NEEDS ANYONE?!_

I fling the doors open and take off down the road. I don't care if I make a scene. I just- I- I have to go calm down.

* * *

"Calm down, kid," I say "You're going to get sick if you keep sucking down root beer that fast."

The name's Tapper. R.B. Tapper. I own the local root beer joint in the middle of the arcade. Folks come round here after work to kick back, unwind, the usual reasons why you'd want a cold refreshment after a day of shooting, running, jumping, or whatever it is the code calls for. Course, this means that once in a while you get someone who really doesn't want a cold root beer so much as someone to talk to. Maybe a job didn't go right. Maybe their game just got unplugged. Maybe they really really got into it bad with a coworker. Y'know, life happens, so when it does, people need someone to talk to. That's where I come in as well. Sure, I've got my life, too, but it's pretty laid back. I usually don't have many problems, and those I do have tend to untangle themselves with relative ease.

So, when I see a red-eyed racer from Sugar Rush walk in, order a root beer, and then start moping and sucking down one drink after another, I know that I'm in for another heart-to-heart. Not that I mind, mind you. I just know what to expect.

"Sorry, I've... I've just had a rough, day, y'know?" The kid says.

Taking out my bar rag, I start wiping up some of the table. It's not like it's really doing much, but if I wipe it throughout the day, then I won't have to mess with it afterwords. So I wipe and talk.

"Girl problems?" I casually throw out. Now, I'm no mind reader, but from all my years of doing this, I've been able to start telling what type of problem it is. A certain slouch here, a certain glance there, then it's got something to do with the job. If they're sucking a root beer down one after the other, and their eyes drift over to couples more than anyone else in the bar, then, bingo, they've got some relationship heck they're going through.

Unsurprisingly, the kid responds, "Yeah. It's that obvious?"

I continue wiping the counter, occasionally glancing up at my unofficial patient. "Kid, I've been doin' this job since before you were programmed. If anybody's gonna fool me, they'd have to try really hard."

The kid lets out a half-hearted chuckle. "Tapper, have you ever really messed things up between you and a girl?"

"Oh, sure kid. Many times. It comes with living, you know? And - if it ain't too personal," I say as I switch from wiping the table to wiping off an empty glass "How is it that you messed up?"

The kid launches into this big mess of a story about the girl from Sugar Rush - y'know, the one this recent Cy-Bug fiasco had to do with - and how he'd gotten a crush on her. A few dirty tricks make him think it's all about poems and skipping and dancing and holding hands. So, in the middle of a big crowd, he royally embarrasses them both. One wardrobe change later, he's here in my bar drowning himself in soda.

"That's rough, kid."

"Yeah, _no joke._ Tapper, I'm giving up on love! I ruined her evening, I ruined mine, and I just don't even deserve her! I'm the biggest fool in the arcade, and I'm-I'm just no good at this _stupid mushy romance-y _junk!" A frustrated fist slams itself on the bar.

"Heh. You got that right, bud, it ain't for everyone, but let me ask you something," I say, looking up at the kid and resting an elbow on the wooden surface. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe - _just maybe _- that's not really what love is?"

A big, confused look smacks onto his face, as if I'd just given him some divine revelation that goes against all he's been taught. Heck, maybe I have.

"What do you mean by that, Tapper?" He asks. Now he's fascinated, leaning in, as if I'm about to reveal some big secret. I laugh a little. It ain't no secret.

"Kid, you know about Fix-it-Felix and Sergeant Calhoun?" I ask, subtly nodding my head in their direction. When the kid responds yes, I continue. "When was the last time you saw them writing love poetry to each other?"

A moment of thinking, and the kid doesn't have an answer. So I ask another question.

"Okay, then. When was the last time you saw them zing out a bunch of mushy one-liners for hours on end?"

Still nothing. I hope one more question will get him to start noticing a pattern here.

"What about attending high-class balls and actin' like Romeo and Juliet?"

After another blank pause, the kid seems to get it. Not that he's any less confused, but he's starting to see where this is going.

"They... they don't do that stuff, do they?"

I shake my head. "Not that I've seen, kid."

"So then... but... aren't they in love?"

"Are they?" I chuckle "Kid, they're _married_. Would you say that's about as in love as you could be?"

"Well, yeah, but... huh. I just... I'm too young to marry Vanellope!"

Missed it by a mile.

"I never said that, either kid. You're right. Any romance _that deep_ ain't for youngsters like you... but you can love just as deep and just the same without all that mushy romantic stuff. Romance is _M _for mature, kid, and you ain't mature enough to handle that without causing damage, tonight being _exhibit A_. No offense, but it's _not in your code_, you get what I mean?"

"I-I think so... maybe..."

"The code is everything, kid. Without the code, I don't serve root beer. Without the code, you don't regenerate in your game. Heck, without the code, there wouldn't be any you, right? So it stands to reason that fighting the code is pretty foolish."

"Yeah... But what if you have a glitch or error that wasn't supposed to be there?"

"That's not what you're supposed to be, though. That ain't part of the code... and it's also whole other can of worms. Back on the subject of love and romance and all the in-betweens: if the code says you're a kid, then so be it - you are. She is a kid, too. And kids don't handle romance well," I shrug "It's just the way it is."

"I don't know where this is going," he says as he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

"Where I'm going is this: you're looking at actions, but not any _deeper _than that. What causes people to kiss each other? What causes 'em to skip and sing and hold hands? Heck, what causes Calhoun to punch Felix while still being happy with him?"

"...Love?"

I click my tongue. "Bingo."

"So... Love isn't skipping?" He asks, trying to sort it out.

"Nope."

"It's not dancing?" He asks, a small smile forming.

"Nope."

"It's not holding hands and kissing and having big goo-goo eyes glued to each other?" He asks, practically beaming from ear to ear and leaning in really closely.

"Not at all."

After a pause, he gets perplexed and slumps back down in his chair. "So... what is it, then?"

"Aha! At last we come to it. Kid - and I'm just using them as examples 'cause they're easy for you to tell - would Felix die for Calhoun?"

"Yeah. It's pretty obvious."

"...Even outside his game?"

"Of course."

"...Even if - say - she didn't deserve it?"

No answer. I knew it was coming, but that's okay. We're almost done here.

"...I... that's... That's a pretty cold question, but, I suppose the answer is yes."

"Now, earlier you said you're done with all this love stuff because you're a jerk and you ruined her evening. Now, let's say you go back to her, admit you messed it up, say you don't deserve her, and _mean it_."

"Tell the truth?"

"Lay it all out. Then, let's say she says she's through. She doesn't love you. Eh, it's not like you deserve her or anything. You've messed things up for her pretty badly. Would you say you deserve to be turned down by her?"

He lets out a grim chuckle. "Yeah."

"Now, on the other hand, let's say she doesn't. Let's say she really does love you. You don't deserve it, but she loves you. She's head over heels for you, in _spite _of the fact that you messed everything up, and _not _because of anything you've done to win her affections." I lean in closely for effect, my eyes looking right at his as I place a hand on his shoulder. "Do you _seriously_ want to give up on that? My man, _that_ is the _epitome _of **_true_**_ love._ If you throw that away, then maybe you're right." I lean back and continue wiping the table, moving my eyes away. "Maybe you're the most foolish one in this arcade."

I look up at him again, and smile, finding a glow in his face that I've never seen before.

"I... I-I... _Thank you, Tapper!"_ With a hug and a tip and a burst of speed, he's out the door and running straight to his game.

"Good luck, kid."

* * *

_'Good luck winning him back, Vanellope,'_ I think to myself.

Yeah, good luck. Try _no way_. I've gone and ruined everything for both of us. Rancis and me? It's never gonna happen. Why? 'Cause I listened to Taffyta's stupid advice. She lied to me and made me a fool in front of everyone.

_'I tried to warn myself.'_

But it didn't work. I wound up heading back to my room and balling my eyes out until the guests left and this horrible ball ended.

And now I'm sitting in the hall, back in my normal clothes, watching as Sour Bill sweeps up what's left of last night's mess. My heart's heavy and I feel like Yoshi when Mario drops him for an extra jump. I had one shot. _I had one shot at Rancis and me_, and I blew it.

Now that's over for good.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the castle door. Wiping my nose and sniffing again, just to make sure no signs of my crying are present, I ask Sour Bill to answer it.

The green dot walks over to the door, opens it, and gets a nasty look on his face. It must be Taffyta.

Taffyta.

My fist tightens and my jaws grind together as Billy Boy comes scuttling back to me. I made sure to put Taffyta and Gloyd in their places. As soon as I had gotten myself together and found out the big picture, I exercised some executive power and suspended them from all random roster races until they learned their lessons. I will not have any of this _lying _and _bullying_ in my land. So, if that's Taffyta and she's coming back to try and lie and bully her way into the races again, then-

"Ma'am, it's Rancis."

_'Rancis?'_

Talk about a mood swing. My heartbeat picks up a little, like an engine that's suddenly got a kick start. Slowly, I feel a warm feeling rise in my stomach as I walk across the hallway towards the door. Quickly, I brush back my hair and straighten out my jacket.

_'Don't get your hopes up. Just don't get your hopes up.'_

Okay. I'm at the entrance. I take a deep breath, let it out, and open up the door.

There's Rancis. He's got his hat in his hand, his eyes looking at the ground, and a deep expression on his face.

"Rancis?" I ask softly. I get no response from him.

"Hey, Fluggface!"

That gets his attention. Suddenly he yanks his head up, slams his hat back on, and starts talking. "Hello, Vanellop-er, uh, _President_ Vanellope! Sorry I didn't hear you. I was just thinking."

"That's a scary thing to do." I shut the door behind me. It's just me and him, standing out in front of the castle...

...

...

...

...And if this were a game, I'd want my quarter back, 'cause it's taking _forever_ to load.

"So... did you wanna talk about something or are we just going to sit here until we get a game over?"

"Oh. Uh... Well, the thing is, uh... Vanellope, I want to apologize."

He takes off his hat again and looks down, getting that ants-in-his-pants nervousness about him again.

"The thing is, Gloyd set me up, and I just listened to his advice... But all he wanted to do was embarrass me, and I... Well... I shouldn't have done what I did. It doesn't matter whether I was put up or not, I shouldn't have pushed this romance stuff that far and... well," he looks up at me, and for the first time I see something in his eyes that I haven't seen since we were working on the RV1. Not to sound melodramatic or anything, but in his eyes I see some sort of weakness. There's no barriers or shields. What he's saying is raw, pure Rancis. No artificial sweeteners added. "Well," he continues "I've been a real overbearing nuisance about this whole crush thing. If you don't l-l..." he gulps, body shaking and eyes watering up a little.

"If I don't what?"

"Well, if you don't love me, and if you still don't want to take a chance with me, I... I..." He locks up for a second, then lets out a sigh. "I understand. Vanellope, I am head over heels in love with you, but I didn't know how to show it. And now that I do, it might be too late, but that's okay." He takes a step back. "I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry is all. If we could just be friends, that would be the fine. Heck, if you never speak to me again, that's fine. I-I... I don't deserve you."

And with that, he turns around and starts heading down the stairs, sulking and moping like that day I found him crashed beside the race track.

"Rancis."

He pauses, not turning around but clearly listening. I walk up to him and put my hand on his back. "All that dancing, and clingy stuff, and the kiss... that wasn't me, either. I listened to Taffyta, and I shouldn't have."

"Yeah," he chuckles, still not facing me. "I figured out that that romance stuff is too big for us. We're just kids."

"Yeah," I say, knowing this all too well.

"I-It also turns out that love and romance aren't the same. One's caused by the other, a-and we don't have to be romantic to be in love... Heh... I should've figured _that one_ out sooner, huh? Di-did... Did you know about that?"

"No, actually," I say, feeling a bubbly teary type feeling come up.

"Well..." Another broken, trembling chuckle "You learn something new each day, don't you?"

He's about to take another step, only he'll probably find that hard when I lean forward and wrap my arms around him and give him a great big hug, and not one of those stupid fake ones either, but I mean a _real_ genuine hug because _darn it I love him and **he **is **not **going away without **knowing it.**_

Also, I'm about to cry and I really really don't want him to see me cry so until I can sniff these tears back down I'm going to hold him so he can't turn around.

"V-V-Vanellope?" He quivers out.

"Rancis, I really do love you."

Quickly, I set him down in front of me and he turns around.

Our eyes lock.

It takes about half a second before we're sitting on the ground, arms around each other, balling like babies.

* * *

"Batter up!" Screams the peanut themed racer to his vanilla-headed girlfriend. Quickly, he chucks the big messy piece of squishy candy at her. Just in time, she swings the bat, splattering it all over. They both start cracking up.

Frolicking through the sugary junkyard, the two giggling companions share a game of "First Person Spewer" with the portable chocolate hoses they rigged up. Blasting away at each other, they become proud warriors in a game of cat-and-mouse, dueling until they drop from exhaustion.

Down at Tapper's, a carpenter with a magic hammer is cautiously cheering the boy on, and a gung-ho military woman is rooting for the girl. Amid shouts of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" The soda drinking contest ends, leaving cheers and laughter all around. In the back, the old bartender smiles.

It's almost Monday, and the two are lying next to each other on a giant mound of candy, chocolate and sweets smeared all over their faces and bellies full of junk food. As he helps her up, they slide down it hand in hand and walk off to their cars to start another day of racing.

Heading straight into a race with several others, they swerve through tunnels, fling over loops, and dive into shortcuts as the engines roar and the road speeds by, leaving the competition in the dust.

Who needs any mushy, romance-y junk anyway?

* * *

**Well, there you have it.**

**Did you like it or not? Please let me know. Your reviews mean a ton more to me than favorites, as they help me hone my skill and bring more honor to my Lord Jesus Christ, Who has mercifully given me a strong passion for writing.**

**Sorry for getting all mushy on you myself just for a bit there, but to me that's a priority. Thanks for letting me have my soap box for just a second (and my offer still stands; if you have Q & A about Christianity, I don't bite).**

**A little about this story itself (feel free to skip if you're not curious):**

**It came to me when I was browsing the "Recommended Fanfics" section of the Wreck-it-Ralph TVTropes page. Now, granted, most of that stuff just isn't my style, so I wasn't expecting a lot to begin with. In a rather childish burst of boredom, I determined to myself that I would attempt to read a shipping fic all the way through just to prove to myself that the genre isn't as bad as I think it is.**

**Long story short, I failed. ****I couldn't pull myself through a single one, and it wasn't because they weren't well written - from a _technical_ standpoint. The problem was the uncharacteristic portrayal of the characters, Vanellope in particular. Every other fic had her either acting like a teenager or some soap opera drama queen. For some reason, it just didn't flow with me.**

**So I got to thinking: What would it take to make a shipfic I enjoy? Why do these annoy me so much? It dawned on me then that - duh - they weren't portraying the characters like sugar high nine year old brats, and more like teens. Now, granted, there is no label that can truly define any group of people. That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is, based on the movie (and the heart-wrenchingly adorable storybook "The Sweetest Ride"), they wouldn't act like that.**

**So, I took Rancis and Vanellope (by far one of the more used pairings - I'm sure that book had something to do with it) and stuck them in a situation I thought "realistic" to their character types: I put two immature (that's not a snub, that's an accurate assessment of the nine-to-eleven year old capability of handling romance) kids together, made them fall for each other, and then stuck them up a creek without a paddle. I then**** deconstructed it and reconstructed it (to use TVTrope terminology). Here's the result.**


End file.
